


Devout Heretic

by Alucinoria



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alucinoria/pseuds/Alucinoria
Summary: Drabbles.This is based heavily on a headcanon by a Tumblr user: scuzer. Overseer Marcus, an adorable original character thrown into the mess that is the Dishonoured universe, belongs to that same Tumblr user. Not beta-d. Not proofread. Not mine.





	1. Witch Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scuzer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scuzer).



He first heard the music when he was still a child from a small farming village.

Young Marcus was standing by his father's cart overfilled with the day's harvest, watching curiously the overseers prancing about the market square. Rumours of witchcraft had apparently reached the Abbey the day before. So it was not a surprise to find the masked men poking at every corners of the village as soon as the next dawn. Standing at the center of the square was that one overseer with a strange looking box. While the others were questioning the frightened villagers, that lone figure was silently turning the crank at the side of his box. The sound emitted was anything but pleasant. Somewhere nearby a baby started to cry.

The 'witch' was caught after a few hours of search. Young Marcus would have stayed to witness the burning of the witch but his father, looking paler than usual, had already packed and was headed for home.

Later that evening the same group of masked men came to visit his father's humble farmhouse. Before his young innocent mind could begin to understand the implication of a blade through his father's neck, he was whisked forever away from his village by those men. 

A bone charm hummed on within his father's cold, lifeless grasp. But that was also soon forgotten.


	2. Overseer Marcus

_'Wherever the Overseers go, common folk tremble, and brother accuses brother.'_

_~~~_

Since passing the Trials of Aptitude,  Marcus had been stationed at Dunwall and was given a post at the outer skirts of Holger Square. Despite his slightly shorter and leaner frame compared to his fellow overseers, which he was often teased for, he took pride in his agility and the excellence of his marksmenship. 

Not that he was required to demonstrate his skills on a daily basis but Dunwall immediately after the Rat Plague was still in the midst of chaos. Brutal street fights among rival gangs were common occurrence in the newly repopulated towns. And since the Abbey still worked closely with the City Watch oftentimes he and his teammates would be assigned to the neighboring towns to help... mediate the dispute. And then there were the weepers, pitiful relics of the Plague, could still be found huddling in sewers or basements of abandoned buildings unaware of the existence of a cure for the disease. Brute force, instead of gentle assurance of medical treatment and rehabilitation to encourage the weepers out from their hiding place, was ultimately employed to cleanse the place of the infestation as it was deemed a more time-saving, _tax_ -saving, alternative. 

So it did not come as a surprise that the citizens feared the Abbey. Their smiles would turn to tight grimace, hearts heavy with dread, at recalling its recent bloody history. 

Marcus despised bloodshed. He might not approve of his superiors' approach but an order was an order. 

Luckily, those kind of assignments were fewer these days. And Marcus was back at his usual post with his usual patrolling duty. It was a fine day, like any other day. The public place was quiet, as usual. The area had already been cleared of thugs and beggers. And bodies, he added thoughtfully. The stone pavements were scrubbed clean of blood stains and urine. The cool, slightly humid air smelled of clean linen. He caught a glint of watchful eyes - he turned swiftly towards the source to find a concerned citizen hiding behind a window...

Then there was a sudden loud gasp followed by a soft something slamming against his back. 

Marcus, almost tripping forward with surprise, was immediately on high alert. He whirled around, a hand resting on his weapon, ready to face his assailant. But there was no weapon wielding opponent. His cold glare softened at the sight of a scrawny boy of not more than ten years of age standing just a few steps away. His toy bounced twice on the hard ground before rolling harmlessly away towards a shallow gutter. 

There was a harsh whisper from somewhere: 'I told her not to let the kid out. I told her!' 

The said kid was close to tears, looking fearfully up at the looming figure with that scary mask, no doubt remembering the horror stories of the Abbey. 

Sighing, Marcus bent down to pick the ball up. Straightening, and as an afterthought, he removed his mask before turning back at the boy. 'Here is your ball,' he said with a smile, offering the kid his toy. 'Be careful not to hurt others next time.'

The boy received his toy mutedly, his face an obvious picture of confusion. He was not expecting such kind gesture from a being rumoured to be so violent in nature. 'Will do, sir!' said the boy, shyly, and ran off towards a set of stairs. 

Marcus watched till the boy disappeared from sight before continuing on with his patrol. Yes, it was an uneventful day. Marcus would love to keep things as it were. And maybe... for the people to be less fearful of the overseers. Of him. 


	3. Fugue Feast

' _He takes his strictures very seriously.'_

~~~

It never seemed to get easier with each passing year to come up with a convincing excuse to turn down the numerous invites during the period of the Fugue Feast. And for the more daring company, the party invite entailed an obligatory visit to the Golden Cat to 'get the ladies to act out a few choiced scenarios from The Daughter of Tyvia'.  _Or the Young Prince of Tyvia._ Marcus had almost blurted out his suggestion. Immediately, he could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment under his mask. 

But there was a time, many years ago, he took up the invitation for some rum and whiskey, and almost drank himself to death. He was lucky to wake up the next day, soiled in his own vomit, and reporting late to work. The hangover had lasted for days. 

For this year's Fugue Feast, he was thankful to be left alone in his room. He had pancakes for dinner, topped with a generous amount of buttery cinnamon filling and sliced banana - that was the furthest he would go to indulge his sweet tooth - while looking out through his window to the unobstructive view of the full moon and the Wrenhaven River. 

Anytime now, he thought absenmindedly, the signal for the Hymn of Atonement would be announced. And after that: a new year. A better new year... 

Swallowing the last bit of his pancake, he pushed aside his empty plates, put on his mask, and began to recite the strictures. 


	4. The Leviathan

_'Have we not seen it all in our dreams? This place we share, in the farthest reaches of our minds. The realm where nothing makes sense, where one is at once both lost and at home.'_

_~~~_

Marcus had only a general idea of the Void. Most of the information regarding the realm was gathered from confiscated books, or confessions from the many interrogated heretics. It was a place time stand still. It was a place where the dark-eyed god dabble in dark magic. It was a place where the lost souls go and stay until they were devoured... All things considered, and being a devout agent of the Abbey of the Everyman, it was the last place Marcus would imagine himself to be in. The thought itself was blasphemous. 

So he concluded that he must be dreaming when he found himself waking up and standing on one of the smaller floating islands. He took a deep breath and pinched at the back of his hand. The dull pain felt too real to be a dream. His heart began to pound in trepidation. 

He inched slowly towards the edge of the island, looking down to the infinite drop to nothingness. Narrow streams of waterfall flowed continuously upwards, as if against gravity, towards the endless heights. He would not know if there exist a sky overhead. The entire observable space glowed softly in blue. There was a shipwreck in a far corner. Crumbling buildings were held in suspended animation. He stared at a swimming whale for the longest of time. 

Surely he must be dreaming. 

But he felt too alert, too awake to be dreaming. He took a few steps back, away from the precarious drop, and did a quick check upon himself: his mask, his uniform, and his weapons. His handgun was fully loaded. There were plenty of spare bullets within his pouch. The weight of his sword at his hip provided a tiny comfort. 

He looked back up at the Void.

'Hello?' he asked, feeling silly at the question. He was greeted with silence. A hesitant pause and, with no particular direction in mind, he began to jump from one island to the next, mindful not to look downwards. 

'My, my... Overseer?'

He was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a figure before him. Still in mid-jump, he shifted his forward momentum at the last moment in an attempt to avoid knocking into the figure. He landed on his feet, awkwardly, the upper half of his body leaning dangerously over the edge of the island. He reared back and bumped into something. Turning around, he was greeted by... 

_'The Outsider has terrible eyes. Black on black.'_

... the god itself. 

'My dear Marcus.' The smile was anything but friendly. 

Marcus must had cried out in shock while falling off the island, arms flailing wildly, hands reaching at thin air. Had anyone died before in the Void? 

'You can wake up now.'

Marcus blinked and discovered that he was back at the island, laying on his back. Cold began to seep into his skin through his uniform. When had he lost consciousness? He turned his head slightly to his right and stared up at the figure standing near him.

The Outsider was watching him with a bemused smirk.

Eyes widening with horror, Marcus jumped to his feet, drew out his gun in a fluid motion and aimed steadily at the Outsider. 

'Is this how you greet your host?' it almost purred in amusement.  

Marcus gritted his teeth. 'The strictures guide my hand,' he said in a slightly quivering voice before pulling the trigger. The gun exploded unexpectedly to a puff of grey smoke. He drew back his hand in shock; however, years of experience on combat had him reaching reflexively for the next weapon in possession. 

'Is it fear, or stupidity, that makes you believe that you could harm me in my own realm?'

The sword, too, disappeared into a puff of smoke. 

'Settle down now. I am trying to have a conversation with you.'

Stripped of his weapons, Marcus could only brace himself defensively before the the Outsider. Besides the tingling at the finger tips, his hands were not injured. His mouth felt dry. He could practically hear his heart slamming frantically against his ribs. How would his brothers react in such situation? 'I will not be seduced by you, demon!' 

The Outsider went silent for awhile. Perhaps it was taken aback by the mortal's boldness. 'You are a devout man,' it began anew, crossing its arms across its broad chest. 'Saved by the Abbey from a life of grovelling on the streets, you certainly have a lot to owe to your saviours.' It smirked again. If only the mortal knew of the truth behind his parent's death. The truth that was twisted around by his fellow overseers he trusted with his life. 'A stray given food, you are quite the dog on the leash.'

'The Abbey are my family,' Marcus said. 'And I will defend them and all others who seek salvation from the likes of you -' 

'-demon, yes.' The Outsider interrupted with a dismissive flip of its hand. 'Because I will eat their souls. Or whatever the gossip it is this century.' 

'My brothers and sisters will purge the world from your vile influence,' Marcus continued, his back straightening, his voice growing firmer with courage. 'You will not corrupt me. No matter what you do, I will not falter from my faith. I am not afraid of you, Outsider!' 

The Outsider tsked. 'Lying tongue.' He flickered out from view before reappearing just inches away from Marcus. 'You are reeking with fear, overseer. But scaring you is not why I have brought you here.' 

Marcus jumped back in surprise. _Witchcraft_! 'I will not be tempted by your sin!' He wanted to get as far away from the Outsider as possible. But the island provided only a limited space to roam. 

'Because you are a virtuous man, yes.' Hands behind its back, the Outsider began to circle around the island. 'The image of what the Abbey should be... if only they themselves made an afford to practice that righteous image they enjoy advertising. You, however, do not abuse the power given to you, unlike the majority of your siblings.'

'Your forked tongue will not convince me to betray my family. I am no heretic.' Marcus eyed the Outsider warily, mindful of the distance between them.   

Another mocking smile: 'My intention is not to sway you with words, overseer. Your favour is not what I seek.'

Then why was he brought to this place? But Marcus never had the chance to ask. There was a sharp sting over his left hand. It happened so suddenly that he could not hold back the pained whimper from escaping from his lips. He brought his left hand up. The back of his hand felt hot, and was glowing in a strange light. A symbol began to form just below his knuckles 

Marcus stared in horror at the Mark. 'What? No... No!' 

The Outsider was chuckling at his distress. 'As a devout man, I wonder what you will do? Cut off your hand? End your life before you can be executed by those you call family? For I doubt your family shares the same incentive of forgiveness and mercy as you believe they do.' 

Marcus was not paying any attention to the Outsider by then. The glowing Mark became a bright blur to his blank stare. He had all but retreated into his shell, reciting the seven strictures...

A hand landed heavily on his left shoulder, drawing him out from his reverie.

'Or will you see with the eyes I have given you?' The Outsider leaned in closer to purr directly at his ear. 'I wonder what you will do now since you have been blessed by the very "demon" you loathe.'

Marcus was silent, his shoulders slumped forward in despair.

The Outsider traced a finger over the outline of his mask. 'Regardless of what you choose, I do hope you will make it interesting.'

The last thing Marcus remembered seeing before losing consciousness for the second time on his first visit to the Void was that triumphant grin on its face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I literally copy n paste the entire conversation between Marcus and the Outsider from scuzer's comic.


	5. The Heart

' _With this Heart, you will hear many secrets.'_

~~~

Marcus studied the heart within his grasp. It had stopped whispering to him and was now beating at a slow, regular rhythm. The intricate clockwork was visible beneath the glass-like covering within the heart's chambers. It felt surprisingly light on his hand despite its large size, and felt warm to the touch. The Outsider had only briefly explained on its functions. 

Marcus directed the heart at himself and gave it a gentle squeeze, wondering what it had to say about himself...

'You need a nap.'

Maybe he could throw it into the Wrenhaven River. 


	6. Wolfhound

' _Do not weep or make a sound, for that will bring the 'seer's hound.'_

~~~

It was probably the laziest among the litter. Always hungry. Always sleepy. Always lounging under the sun even on patrol duty. But Marcus grew very fond of his wolfhound ever since they were partnered up many years ago. Wolfhounds were not pets. They were one of the Overseer's most lethal weapons. To Marcus, however, it was, and always would be, his most cuddly, overgrown puppy.

He named the beast Dandelion. 

There was a time, long ago, that his wolfhound was severely wounded when they unexpectedly came upon a den of rats. While the veterinarians had given up hope on its recovery, and suggested for it to be put down, Marcus had taken it upon himself to personally nurse Dandelion back to health. It was a long, arduous task. Eventually, the fever settled, the swelling around its neck subsided, and the pus cleared, leaving behind a mess of scar tissues over the previously injured site. Now even the scars were barely visible once its dark brown fur had fully grown back. Since then, the beast had been staying closely by his side. And Marcus would give in to its whining to allow it to sleep in his room.

They were an inseparable pair...

It was late at night when Marcus finally stumbled back to his quarter, his heart heavy with the burden of being unwillingly marked by the Outsider. He might want to take a long bath to calm his nerves. And perhaps some warm camomile tea after that...

Upon hearing the familiar footsteps of its human partner, Dandelion got up from where it was resting on the mat in front of the door to his room, wagging its tail in a slow circular motion. 

'Dandelion,' Marcus greeted fondly, reaching out his right hand to pet its head. 'You escape from the kennel, old boy?' He had left the hound there earlier that day for some grooming and regular check up, prior to his ill-fated encounter with the Outsider. He had admittedly been ignoring his hound while he went about sorting out the more urgent issue with his glowing mark and new found power.

The wolfhound sniffed once at the air and grew tensed. It stopped wagging its tail. It had flattened its ears over its head, the skin over its muzzle wrinkled. Its dark lips had retracted to expose its sharp teeth. It started to growl in a low, threatening tone. 

Marcus quickly withdrew his hand, alarmed at the beast's sudden change in behavior. He mildly felt the dull throbbing of the Mark over his other bandaged hand. 'Dandelion?' 

The wolfhound regarded him silently, still in its aggressive stance, before walking away to the general direction of its kennel. 

That night, Marcus slept alone in his bed for the first time since a long time. The room had never felt so cold... 


	7. The Marked Ones

_'The boldest measures are the safest.'_

~~~

The witch hunt was more of a killing spree than anything. Those 'witches' who fought back were shown no mercy and were put down instantaneously. Those who fled would be hunted, captured and brought back to the Abbey ~~to be tortured~~ for further questioning. Marcus did not particularly relish in the sheer brutality of these missions. Given the choice, he would rather choose the 'boring' job of street patrol. 

Presently, he was in the middle of such a hunt, but had excused himself from mid-chase to follow the trail of fresh bodies his brothers carelessly dropped behind back to the secluded corner of the town where the purge started. Rumours of rituals with animal sacrifices had prompted the investigation around this area. A part of Marcus was glad that the investigating team did not bring along the Music Box.

He looked pitifully at the slain littering the streets and wondered if this were to be his fate once his secrets were exposed. Shaking the grim thoughts away, he took the Heart out and gave it a gentle squeeze. None of his brothers were around this part of the town, he thought, so it _should_ be fine to use it for a short while... 

The Heart resumed its interminable monologue, offering miscellaneous facts into his head he was not interested in knowing. One information, however, caught his attention.

He prompted the Heart further, and was directed to an abandoned building. By the time he found a way into the building he felt a strange pull from within the dark interiors.

Marcus put the Heart away, and maneuvered over a body blocking the entrance into a short hallway.

At the end of the hallway was a locked door. He broke the lock easily, quietly, and open the door.

The room behind the door was windowless, lit by a lone whale oil lantern. Situated in the middle of the room was the Outsider's shrine. And humming softly upon the altar was a rune.

Marcus approached the shrine slowly, acutely aware of his racing heart, the pulsing sensation over his left hand, and felt severely conflicted at this point onwards. He had before discovered many of such shrines, variations of similar construction belonging to the heretical groups, and had destroy them without a second thought. Now, being the one Marked, was it wise to vandalise it like the rest? How would the Outsider react?  

Tentatively, he reached for the rune.

And the world fell apart. 

 

He blinked once, twice, three times, before daring to look upon the familiar pair of black eyes. 

'Hello, Marcus.'

'What is it you want now, demon?' He groaned silently in exasperation, looking around the empty space, the endless blue, and knew without a doubt that he was back at the Void.

Had the Outsider brought him here to punish him?

What could he do about it?

Reluctantly, Marcus released his grip on his pistol. 'Your Mark,' he raised his left hand, the ethereal glow visible through his leather glove. 'I have no use for it. Take it back.' 

Those black eyes remained impassive. 'In the days that follow, your trials will be great. I suggest that you use your new-found power, my gift to you.'

Are you not the greatest contributing factor to all my miseries? Marcus thought bitterly. His favourite hound hated him. He could hardly stay near the overseer's gramophone for more than a few seconds without feeling terribly ill by its music. 'I refuse,' he said aloud. 'I am no heretic.' He wanted to stand tall before the demon but it was right about one fact: he feared the Outsider. And he was ashamed of it. 

Hovering over a crumbling wall, the Outsider's youthful face regarded Marcus with measured amusement. 'For centuries, people have been fighting and dying, scheming and lying, in order to gain my attention, my favor. They pray and they offer their souls for a fraction of power you now possess, or to glimpse if only for a while the visage of their god. The things they do.' The Outsider smiled almost fondly, shaking its head. 'Yet here you are, my dear Overseer. Stubborn. Ignorant. _Innocent_.' The smile turned a shade darker. 'How you use what I have given you falls upon you.'

It took all of Marcus' will to stand still on trembling legs, hands clenching into tight fists by his sides. 

The Outsider tilted its head, as if listening to a hushed conversation. 'You shall soon meet with a man blessed with the same Gift.' A small mischievous grin creeped at the corner of its lips seeing the bewildered look on the overseer's face. 'I hope you are not under the impression that you are the only one chosen. There are nine like you in the world, bearing my Mark. But most of them are not known to get along well with each other. Siblings rivalry, I supposed.' It shrugged. 'Try to be nice for once.' 

It turned to glide smoothly over the edge of the island. 'And now, I return you to your world, but know that I will be watching with great interest. I look forward for our next meeting.' 

 

Marcus was again standing before the shrine. Shadows seemed to dance around its wooden structure, the purple fabric draping about its base, and against the wall. 

He replaced the rune on the altar before taking a few steps backwards towards the door, away from the shrine. No. He would never use it. He had resisted the urge to use his powers for so long. He would never be tempted to use it now. 

The Outsider's shrine had to be destroyed. 

The room by then was swarming with rodents. The rats were not the tiny, emaciated ones found at the streets, he noted. They were huge and fat, their lush dark fur glistening red under the yellow light. He crushed a couple of rats under his boots in disgust before swinging his sword at the moving mass of fur.

He jumped back in surprise when his blade met with resistance. The sound of metal against metal echoed harshly within the small confines of the room. He lifted his sword again just in time to block a frontal assault. A man had apparently materialised out of thin air before him: he wore a hood and a long dark coat, his face hidden behind an odd looking mask.

'What- Who are you?' Marcus almost shriek in shock. 

The stranger answered with more blows. Each attack was precise, swift, and heavy. And Marcus quickly found himself falling back on the defensive side. Amist the struggle, footsteps were heard approaching their direction. The stranger took advantage of the momentary distraction to shove the overseer out of the room, slamming the door shut. 

Marcus rushed back towards the door, shouldering it open, fully expecting a well-timed attack from that stranger. But there was no one in the room. The rats had scattered away. The rune, too, was no longer on the shrine... 

Just then, his brothers, back from the hunt, had entered the building. They looked at Marcus curiously with his drawn sword. 

 

With the warm rays of the setting sun against his back, Marcus set the last of the bodies on the hastily made pyre. The Outsider's shrine, too, was brought out, ~~vandalised~~ dismantled, and thrown into the blaze. Still high on adrenalin, he pondered at the identity of that mysterious masked man. The Outsider did mention about another person bearing its Mark... 

Turning from the blaze, he watched the rest of the overseers regroup and usher the remaining cultists back to the Abbey, and prayed hard that his brothers would leave his bizarre behavior out of their reports.


	8. Devout Heretic

_'Should Overseers come to call, know your Strictures, one and all.'_

~~~

_'On the 14th day, Month of Harvest, 1818, we see an influx of candidates initiated for the Trial. Young potentials from all over the Isles. These children...'_

Marcus snapped up from the book he was reading. Was that footsteps he heard? But the High Overseer's office remained strangely quiet. He could hear his own breathing under his mask, deep and controlled.

The cool evening breeze came in through an opened window. He had entered the office through that window, not the door, and had planned to exit via the same route. There might be guards at the corridors behind the door. He could not risk being seen snooping at places he shouldn't be, especially not when he had a secret to keep. 

He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, before turning his attention back on the twisty handwriting on the yellowed pages. 

_'It is by the generosity and kindness of the Abbey to take in children orphaned by such unfortunate circumstances...'_

He flipped through more pages. There was a list of towns and names in the middle of the book. However, a large part of the entry was illegible. 

'... _coaxed to the teaching of the sacred Strictures. The death of their parents a necessary evil.'_

'Brother Marcus.'

Marcus froze. He shut the book on the desk and turned around swiftly to face the newcomer. 

'It really is you,' said the newcomer. 

Marcus was not expecting the swift blow to his temple. His mask flew off his face. He saw stars dancing before his eyes, briefly. And the world turned dark afterwards. 

 

He woke up to the dull, throbbing pain over the right side of his skull. 

'I was beginning to believe that you would never regain consciousness tonight,' said a voice. 'At least you wouldn't experience it awake.'

'Expecience what?' Marcus mumbled, slowly opening his eyes.

He quinted under the harsh ceiling light. He was not in the High Overseer's office anymore, but somewhere else. A troubling sense of familiarity came over him as he study the room. 

Someone was playing the Music Box somewhere. 

He leaned back on his seat, feeling nauseous and disorientated. He tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head, but succeeded only in making the headache worse. He attempted to raise a hand, wanting to rub his forehead, to run his fingers through his hair, anything to ease the discomfort, only to discover that both his wrists and ankles were secured tightly to the metal chair he was sitting. 

There were two overseers standing before him. 

'Believe me when I say that I do not wish to put you in this situation,' said the first overseer. 'But I am following the order from the higher up to bring you here.'

Marcus thought he recognised the voice. 'Brother Roderick,' he said weakly. 'I know how this looks. But please, let me explain-'

'We have been keeping an eye on you,' the second overseer interrupted. Marcus knew this voice too: Overseer Gale. 'There are a few reports on you. We did not believe what is written there at first. But lately we, too, find that you have been acting strangely...'

'I was not feeling well,' Marcus said. 

'Perhaps,' Gale shrugged. 'But we cannot be too sure.'

'We do not put a person on the interrogation chair just for breaking into the High Overseer's office.' Roderick said, walking around a table by the chair. He pushed an object from the center of the table towards the edge near Marcus. 'We found this in your pocket. Care to explain why you are keeping the bone charm with you?' 

Marcus stared at the bone charm mutedly before turning away.  

He felt lightheaded.

If only the Music would stop... 

Roderick continued evenly. 'You are an overseer, first and foremost, and it is your sole duty to protect the world of men from the malevolent influences of the Outsider.' 

Marcus flinched when Roderick came forward to remove the glove off his left hand, exposing the Outsider's mark. 

'I did not ask for it,' Marcus said, his voice breaking. 'I am not seduced by the devil. My faith stays strong with the Abbey.'

The overseers exchanged a glance. Roderick nodded. Gale sighed and turned to walk behind the interrogation chair.

'You do not belong to the Abbey,' Roderick stated calmly. 

'No.' Marcus almost sobbed. 

Gale reappeared before Marcus with the heretic brand. 

'No, please... '

Gale held a hand on Marcus, turning his head gently to aside, while holding steadily the red hot iron over Marcus' face with his other hand.

'Forgive me, brother.' 

Marcus couldn't remember much afterwards. The pain was nothing he had ever experienced... and he had never shouted this desperately before.

Seconds felt like hours. Eventually, darkness consumed his consciousness. And he gladly accepted it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My narration ends here. Thanks for reading. *bows*
> 
> You guys should ready take a look at scuzer's blog at Tumblr if you want to know more bout Marcus. ^_^


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